


A Minor-Major Slip-up

by BrainlessGenius



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mistakes, Morality | Patton Sanders Needs a Hug, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, One Shot, Pandemics, Panic Attacks, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius
Summary: Virgil made a mistake. He messed up and brought Thomas with him when he could have just kept the thoughts to himself. He's sorry about it. Really, he is. But the damage is done and he can't do anything about it. Someone comes in to help him process what happened.A fill for the prompt "light hurt/comfort + a side makes a mistake and someone comforts them"
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	A Minor-Major Slip-up

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning/s:** _set during pandemic_ , panic attack, self-deprecating thoughts

He didn’t mean to. Virgil swears he didn’t mean to. He knows he shouldn’t have done that. 

They needed to be outside for this photoshoot. Logan had reminded him that this was long overdue. Roman had told him that the aesthetics and the lighting were necessary for a quality photo. Janus had said that they’d take every precaution outside and more. Everyone else agreed.

But it was their first time outside during a horrible pandemic, and he’s  _ Anxiety.  _ Anxiety  _ worries. _

Anxiety thinks of anything and everything that might possibly go wrong. He thinks of every end game and every path, every step and every breath. It’s his job to worry, overthink, ponder, observe, and fear. It’s his job to feel this way about each suspicious thing, to keep Thomas alert enough and aware enough. It’s his job to keep them safe.

But he overstepped a line. He overdid it. There were just too many things happening, too many things to think about. 

Where were Thomas’ hands placed? Did he touch his face? Are the fans okay with the delay? Was the mask enough? A few spritzes of alcohol, and just another more. How long have they been outside? Will they even like this photoset? There was too much of him exposed. Too much. The script for the next video was still incomplete. The mask needed to be off for the shoot. How long will that take? They might have gotten infected within that time. There were people passing by. Too many people. Some walked too close, too loud. There were eyes on them. What were they thinking? They probably looked ridiculous. If they got infected could they handle it by just staying home? Will they be sent to the hospital? Was the shoot even worth the risk? Were they being judged? Could they die--

And Virgil only did his duties. He thought of every single possibility. He let the anxiousness fester in himself and let it siphon into Thomas’s psyche drop by drop. He knew the limits. He knew of healthy doses of anxiety, of just enough to spur Thomas into action or enough to get him into a train of rational thought.

But there was just too much of the spiraling thoughts latching onto Virgil’s head, spinning sticky webs in his chest. Too many and too rapid to hold in his fingers, too slippery to hold back, too manic to reign in.

Virgil made a mistake. The thoughts turned into a full blown panic attack, and Thomas felt the entirety of it.

Everything devolved into more panic-laced chaos from there. Thomas was brought back into the car. They tried to calm him down. Any make-up left on his face was smudged off. Sweat ruined his attire. A mask wasn’t going to help with his breathing. Everyone was in a frenzy. Not to mention the shame and humiliation of hyperventilating in a car for stupid reasons.

Then, back in the mindscape, there were the other sides; frantic and tumultuous while they tried to put things back into a calmer gear. And Virgil left. He did not need to know or see what they thought of him then. There was no more need for him to see the sheer disappointment in them.

He drags out his own panic attack in his room, alone, where there is no one to see his chagrin. Try as he must to steal back the words of anxiety he carelessly let bleed into Thomas, it will not matter. The damage is done and Thomas panicked. Probably still is. In public. Surrounded by his crew. In a cramped car. In the heat. With no social distancing. Being the only one without a mask. Unable to breathe. Photoshoot ruined. Schedule delayed. Deadline missed. Risk increased--  _ oh my god, stop. _

He tries to breathe in for four seconds. Just four. He can handle four. There’s a strong hick and a realization that he just botched it at the third second. He curses through a fiery lung and tries again. 

Focus. Focus sounds like something a panicked person should have. But it isn’t exactly the easiest task to manage when only half of Virgil is paying attention to his own demise. The other half is still lingering on how he fucked up, how Thomas is still suffering right now, how he can’t help ‘cause he can’t even help himself, and how terribly sorry he is for such carelessness.

He was so close to keeping it in for seven seconds. So close. He starts over. His legs are too active, too bouncy, too jittery. His hands are too clammy and his temperature too hot. His eyes are stinging and the jacket is comfortable and not all at once.

“Mistake,” “bad guy,” “villain,” “dark side,” “fuck-up,” and “failure” all clash into each other out of time to the pathetic heaving of his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil chokes out. There is no one to hear his apology but still he says so. He says it again and then for one more time until it becomes a mantra he mumbles through the shaking of his lips.

And he really is sorry. They’ve just figured out how to balance Thomas’s anxiety. They’ve settled this and accepted him for who is. They’ve arrived at the proper compromise as a little family and they’ve stuck to it for so long. He just threw it all away.

He keeps saying sorry to the humid nothingness of the room, not expecting it to answer back. But it does.

“Virgil? Hey, it’s alright, kiddo. Come on now, you have to breathe, hmm? Follow my breathing, Virge, that’s it.”

Whoever this is is obviously not well-accustomed to this, too. Their hands are just as shaky over Virgil’s own, voice just as unsure. A deeper, sharper bite of abashment drains into him as he registers that someone among the others actually came after him, that they’re currently seeing him so messy and disgusting. They probably came to reprimand him, ask why he did Thomas such an injustice and why he botched any plan of productivity and sanity for today.

Shame that they arrive to such a pitiful sight instead.

“Virgil? Why are you saying sorry-- nevermind. We’ll get to that later. You have to calm down first--”

He shuts his mouth, then. He didn’t even notice that he was still mumbling out useless apologies. Then he’s moved. There’s even more warmth around him and fingers kneading carefully through his sweat-soaked hair. The arms around him and the jacket are a welcome weight, as confusing as the sensations are. They’re simultaneously too cold and too warm on his still feverish skin.

He hears a combination of murmurs, whispers, and hums until he’s being pulled closer--

Then he hears a heartbeat. 

It’s not as loud, sounding muffled under the fabric his ear is undeniably resting against, but he hears it. His mind zeroes in on the faint  _ thump, thump, thump  _ reverberating through. Past tear-blurred eyes he catches glimpses of light blue and gray. The rising and falling of a chest joins the heartbeat in slicing through the fog in Virgil’s head. He finds the rhythm in the slow and steady pattern of breathing against him. He follows.

Slowly the sweet-tasting air returns to him. Carefully his senses come back, and the heartbeat rings out clearer and stronger. Gradually the heat in his skin cools down and his own pulse begins to match that of his companion.

“There you go, Virge. I’ll take care of you. Nice and easy,” the voice says. With his head more cleared out now, it’s easy to pinpoint that it’s Patton who’s come to see him. Before equal parts relief and indignity take over him, his first coherent thought makes an entrance.

Thomas.

Virgil shoots up and halfway out of Patton’s grasp. “Pat? How’s Thomas? Where is he now? Are we home? What’s happening to him, to the shoot--?”

“Woah, slow down, Virgil.” Patton finds his gaze and holds it just as tight as his hands around Virgil’s arms. “Thomas is alright, now. They’ve gotten all the pictures they needed and he’s calmed down.”

Patton takes his hands and massages them gently with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, even if he couldn’t wear a mask, everyone around him was. We’re back home safe and sound. He’s taking a bath right now, actually! All disinfected, too.” From his pants’ pockets Patton pulls out a handkerchief. It’s brown and checkered and too dad-like for Virgil’s taste but who cares at this point? 

Even with Virgil’s protests Patton runs it over his forehead and his hair before the sweat on it cools. “Then he’ll just rest for a little bit after that and then we’ll be aaall nice and energized to do some adjustments on the pictures. Just in time for the schedule Logan set.”

Patton returns his hold on Virgil’s hand, continuing the gentle kneading. Virgil can’t explain how or why, but the feeling is helpful, somehow. Warm, inviting, relaxing, and existent. “We didn’t--” Virgil gulps and breathes, “-- we aren’t thrown off schedule?”

“Oh, well, maybe by a few minutes but don’t. You. worry, kiddo.” Patton punctuates each word with a finger to Virgil’s nose. Virgil tilts his head away and Patton gets the message. He returns to grounding Virgil with his hands. “I already asked Logan about it and he said those few minutes won’t really do much damage.”

Pat beams slightly and Virgil nods slowly. “O-okay. I believe you. That’s… good that my mess-up didn’t mess things up too.” He bows his head and withdraws his hand. “I’m really sorry, Pat. I really tried not to make Thomas panic. I swear I know how to control it and I know that what I did was terrible but I really did what I could honest to fu--”

“Virge.” Patton’s expression takes a different look. He sees Virgil wringing his hands together and he keeps his distance. “It was a mistake. An accident. We know you didn’t mean to--”

“But I still did. I could have stopped it, Pat. I could have kept it to myself and spared Thomas the damned torture--”

Pat tilts his head slightly, face twisting in that slightly animated way Virgil has come to observe on him. “You still would have felt it, either way, right? You’re Anxiety. These, uh, stressful thoughts are part of what you do, aren’t it?”

Virgil keeps his head low and peers at Patton through his fallen bangs. “Yeah, but at least it would have been only me, like always. Thomas didn’t deserve any of that. You guys didn’t deserve any of that.”

Patton opens his mouth. He closes it again. He purses his lips, wrings his hands, and lifts his shoulders. Then he relaxes fractionally. “Well, did you want it to happen?”

Virgil grimaces. “Of course I didn’t--”

“When it  _ did  _ happen, how did you feel?”

The purple-clad side slumps further. “Like I committed a felony.”

Patton grins to the extent he can, arms swinging out to his sides. “See? You didn’t want it, and you’re really sorry for it, so it’s just what it is! An accident! And accidents happen, don't they? I mean--” he laughs once. “--I’ve heard how some kids are even accidents themselves--”

“Uh, Pat, I don’t think you know what that means--”

“Aaaaand you’re right. I don’t at all.” Patton chuckles bashfully and Virgil tosses him a slightly horrified glance. “But the point still stands. You were just… trying to do what you had to, then you slipped.” Patton attempts to reach but thinks against it. “It happens. Mistakes happen to everyone, Virge. I mean, look what happened at the wedding--”

Virgil groans at the memory. “Oh gosh. I wasn’t there for that but Princey told me every detail--”

Patton scratches at his nape and laughs nervously. “Yeah… it wasn’t so, uhm. It wasn’t great, no.” He takes a deep breath and wipes off the regret on his face in a jiffy. “But hey! Jan helped me realize my mistake and I’m… I’m learning from it. And I swear, kiddo, what just happened today isn’t as bad as you think.”

Virgil feels like there’s a lot more to unravel regarding that wedding incident, but he’s wise enough to know that now might not be the right time. “How are the others taking it?”

“Oh they were frustrated, of course, but they understand, Virgil. Aw heck, even Remus slips in a few thoughts here and there. Sometimes he forgets, too. And so does Jan, and Roman, and Logan, and me!” Patton slowly and tentatively rests a hand back on Virgil’s sleeve-covered one, testing the waters. Virgil does not flinch. “It’s alright to make mistakes, Virgil. We’ve got you.”

Virgil feels the worry lifting off his shoulder and he smiles; just the smallest, almost unnoticeable little twitch of the lips. He removes his hand from under Pat’s. The moral side’s eyes grow wide in concern for a second, fearful that he may have done something wrong. But Virgil fixes that by leaning forward and hugging him, burying his face in the crook of Patton’s neck to hide the slight embarrassment and relief.

“Thanks, Pat,” he says, lifting up his head but still keeping his arms around the father figure. 

Patton smiles and leans forward too, resting a quick kiss to Virgil’s forehead and giggling when Virgil blinks widely and consecutively at the motion, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks. “Not a problem at all, Virge. I’m here anytime, hmm?”

Virgil nods, watching as Patton starts to shuffle off the bed. A thought comes to Virgil and he snatches Pat’s hoodie by its hem, stopping his movement. “And I’m here too, Pat. Anytime. You can talk to me too, alright?”

A flash of something breezes past in Patton’s eyes, but it’s gone in no time at all. The smile Patton gives Virgil this time around has just a touch of sadness in it, and Virgil thinks how the sliver of sorrow may just be necessary. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind, kiddo.”

Pat breathes and then the bright grin is back on his face. Pat honestly needs acting lessons from Roman. That aside, he takes Patton’s outstretched, waiting hand and lets himself be pulled up.

“They’re in the commons waiting for us. Come on now, we don’t want to keep them on the  _ Virge  _ of boredom, do we?”

Virgil sighs in well-meaning exasperation, sparing Patton just one laugh before pulling him out the door. 

A mental reminder is made to return the favor and talk to Patton too some other time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all doing okay! Every little support and kudos is eternally appreciated. Follow me on Tumblr [@nerdy-emo-royal-dad](https://nerdy-emo-royal-dad.tumblr.com/)!. Stay safe, fams! <3


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